


Personal Works

by baronohm



Category: Hiveswap
Genre: Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 12:05:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18446195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baronohm/pseuds/baronohm
Summary: Charun spends a slow morning with their bulge and a stimulating memory.





	Personal Works

**Author's Note:**

> ..commissioned by anonymous..

Charun Krojib was a troll who enjoyed taking their time. Waking was no exception. They groaned and rose only as high as was needed to slap at their palmhusk, setting their alarm to snooze for ten minutes. With a grumble, the oliveblood returned to the sopor-filled comfort of their recuperacoon. 

Ten minutes later, the head-pounding insistent whine of their alarm began anew. Charun reached forward and grasped at the tiny thing, succeeding only in knocking it from its perch and down onto the floor below. Slowly, they sat up and reluctantly removed themselves from the calming grip of their sleepy slime. 

“One more.. ..minute..,” they slowly but precisely enunciated each word to no one in particular.

Charun slunk and slid down the pile of yard sale worthy knickknacks beneath their recuperacoon. Riding on a warped, empty picture frame, they finally reached the palmhusk smack dab at the center of their cavern and turned the alarm off.

“I guess I am.. ..awake now..” they muttered. Charun lethargically waggled their slime-covered wrists. The half-hearted gesture failed to remove the clingy sopor. 

They passed beneath leaning towers of inspired art and gleaming stacks of raw creative material, through the wooden portal, and into their homey bathroom. 

The shower tiles had long-since been replaced by rocks, ceramic, and metal that Charun had glued together to form a sort of wavy tapestry of something. They stepped into their functional exhibit and started the flow of river water, heated by the lethal sun the day before.

Charun stretched their lithe body, small but significant muscles tensing as they swung their arms upward and streeetched out the kinks in their back. The oliveblood yawned with the exertion, letting their head fall back as the warming water steamed about them and rolled the sopor smoothly down their body.

In this place of comfort, this work of art, their mind wandered. It’d been a while since they’d been out. It’d been an even longer while since they’d met a troll that’d they’d found genuinely weird and truly worth their time. 

They plucked a cleanstone nestled between two particularly curvaceous slices of ceramic. Squishy yet firm to the touch, it nicely absorbed the antibac lard they began to lather and wash on their flat, firm stomach. It was important to stay clean, especially when dicking around for material.

Speaking of which, their mind wandered back to one particular troll and their aesthetically pleasing equipment…  
A curvy bright blue bulge, spotted with an unusual color Charun had never seen: a green too vibrant to be olive and too bright to be teal. Charun hadn’t learned their name, but they had meticulously memorized their shape as they’d caressed it.

They rubbed one hand up their chest, imagining the blueblood’s hot hands as they’d pressed into their chest. Their jewel-encrusted nails had raked tiny lines into Charun’s chest, not enough to bleed but more than enough to convey their animal lust for the oliveblood. 

“Oooh.. ..yes..” They hadn’t known the blue’s name, but they’d known their passion.

Charun reached down further, palming their bulge while they rubbed at the small, sensitive nook below. A powerful tingle shot up their spine. They felt the other troll at their chest, stifling Charun with their strange citrus scent, nibbling at their ear as they whispered intimately.

Charun snapped out of their reverie as a string of shockingly cold water hit them. Only so much heat could be retained from Alternia’s scorching star. They stepped out of their dazzling shower and donned a towel, staggering. Something heavy bounced, throwing them forward and off balance.

Oh, they thought. It was particularly obvious they were sporting a prodigious erection through the towel. Charun smiled drowsily. It’d been a slow, relaxing morning so far and here was a perfect way to continue it.

They returned to their hive proper and slumped down into their favorite reclining spot. A lawn chair whose worn strips of woven fabric were supplemented with some sort of plush stuffing. They sagged just the right amount, hugging Charun’s tiny toweled butt. A ragged umbrella bent overhead, letting some of the red sunset in which cast an eerie glow upon their olive body. 

Charun freed their tentacle from the towel. It still throbbed with arousal. As the column of faintly warming, ever-darkening red subtly slid across their body, Charun closed their eyes. They gripped their bumpy, olive bulge. A faint citrus scent lingered on the umbrella. They’d stolen it from the very site of their brief concupiscent encounter.

Charun rubbed their tentacle slowly, passing over the almost sharp nubs circling their tip. 

That shadowy troll had found them at a gallery, and again in the alley behind an adjacent cafe. Charun grinned remembering the way they’d described their voice, ‘like honey sliding over the strings of a guitar’.

They’d been pressed against a wall, caught between the unusual, citrus smelling indigo and the warm wisps of fresh baked bread wafting from the cafe. Charun felt their hands on them once again, pulling down the bandana to devour their lips, snaking beneath their shirt to hastily paw at Charun’s lithe frame.

The lethargic troll squeaked in synesthetic memory, lolling their neck to one side and stretching to let the mysterious memory of a troll gnash at their neck, leaving light marks and slick saliva.

Charun mumbled a moan to themselves, rolling the bumps of their textured tentacle across their hands and shivering as each one caught then slipped through their dancing fingers.

The troll’s bright green spots had been smoother than any Charun had felt before, sharing that cool slickness that a curved piece of ceramic held. Charun had felt their beautiful bulge against their tongue, delighting in the slippery strangeness of the transition between the blue and green. Each time they crossed that space, their partner twitched, loosening their grip on Charun’s hat and the mess of hair beneath.

It’d tasted even stronger than it’d smelled, a sharp citrus Charun couldn’t place, an eye-opening sour that puckered their lips about the troll’s member. 

Charun gripped themselves powerfully, masturbating in time with the not-so-distant memory. The sun had all but set, plunging Charun into a darkness they filled with staggered, rolling moans.

The indigo had pressed Charun against the wall, their spotted bulge practically dripping with saliva, and pressed themselves against Charun’s tiny nook. They leaned into Charun’s neck, their breathing as fast and hot as Charun’s own. 

The artistic oliveblood cried out in pleasure as they entered. In the present, they brought their other hand below their tumescent bulge, rubbing against their little nook. That troll had hit all the right spots: pressing their whole body against Charun and biting into their neck as they pulsed and pounded inside the oliveblood. Charun gripped their back, moaning into their shoulder, urging them, uncharacteristically, to go anything but slow.

“Uuuuh.. ..more, faster..” they mumbled aloud. Their voice echoed about the empty hive. They squealed with pleasure as their bulge undulated with the first bursts of pre-cum, a small trickle of semi-transparent olive fluid rolling over their hand.

The troll had growled, gripping Charun’s ass in both hands and lifting them up against the wall. Charun’s shirt slid up and open, and they squealed in pleasure seeing the blue and bright green bulge vanish into their tiny nook. 

Charun’s eyes fluttered as they pressed two fingers inside themselves, trying in vain to replicate the sensation of the gifted indigo swelling and sliding and throbbing within them.

Charun pulled them closer, burying their face in their petite chest, kissing at the their shaved head, and moaning words they couldn’t articulate in the throes of ecstasy.

“..outside..” they said aloud, both then and now, as they felt the indigo swell to a final, telling size.

The troll roared between gritted teeth as Charun shuttered and cried into their shoulder, muffling the exclamation of their orgasm. The troll coated their chest in a bright green color, something Charun had never seen, something as beautiful, colorful, and powerful as the mysterious troll themselves.

Charun’s eyes popped open, their hand clenched about their bulge as they came. Their olive seed flew into the underside of the crooked umbrella, hitting it with a wet thunk not unlike the sound of heavy rain. 

Their nook quivered with the orgasm, squeezing their drenched fingers. They melted into the lawn chair as their bulge’s secretions trickled down to an olive dribble that flopped onto their pelvis. 

“Yeaaah..,” they said with a wide grin, eyes glazed and pointing skyward. 

The secretive lusty troll had vanished after a few grunted words and a handful of tired kisses. Charun had squeezed their hand once, feeling them reciprocate as they masked themselves with a hood, and let go. Their fingers brushed against Charun’s palm as they pulled away and vanished into the dimly-lit street. Later, Charun found that no one at the gallery knew their name and, on their way out, nabbed a discarded umbrella from the cafe alley where they’d made love. They were left that, a memory, and the faint smell of sour citrus fruit.

Charun rose from the chair, dabbing at the mess on their body with the towel. With luck, they wouldn’t have to take a second, considerably colder shower.

The umbrella, however, was a mess. Strands of Charun’s genetic material were slowly stretching from its base, wrapping over the crooked pole that held it up and coalescing into a long olive line. 

“..hmm..” Charun lifted the umbrella and jammed it into the back end of a red cart they’d pilfered from a food dispensary. The strands made their way onto its bright visage, adding olive chaos to the garish red.

Charun chuckled and pulled out their palmhusk. This piece was worth posting. It was, after all, the product of a process that was very personal.


End file.
